8:00AM BST 11 Sep 2012
I’ve been up in the air a lot recently. Discombobulation is an integral part of relocation.
All those elements of your life that felt so combobulated are thrust skywards, as are you, and you find yourself landing in a foreign field, with few of your possessions, in a heatwave. I was reminded of one of my favourite alternative movie posters this week as we drew into Manhattan for my stint on Broadway: a cartoon Ferris Bueller is speeding down the freeway in a “borrowed” Ferrari for a hedonistic “day off”, while in the other direction stretches a solid trudge of traffic. On Labor Day weekend it seems customary to reverse this image and flee the city en masse, leaving inroads relatively clear, as everyone desperately leaps for the summit of summer before the inevitable descent into winter. I can see why they call it “fall” here.
As I sat in one particular plane taxiing from the terminal the other day it violently juddered to a halt; thankfully still on the ground, at low speed, almost as if an airport cat had crossed the pilot’s path. Nevertheless, something interesting occurred in a cabin where people had previously ignored each other, each of us pretending there were 400 impostors on our “private jet”; we suddenly looked each other in the eye. Instinctively we seemed to say, “If we’re in trouble I suppose we should at least connect.” In the air, of course, this sentiment is only intensified. Airborne or otherwise, if we’re collectively in trouble we should indeed connect.
READ MORE:http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/9526038/My-week-Dan-Stevens.html
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